Guilt On Skin
by WerewolfGirl
Summary: Night time stalking into a graveyard of blood and flesh. Greyback/Lupin. Info/Warnings Inside


_**8thAugust 2005 - REMAKE 2012**_

**NOTE: **I donot own Harry Potter nor the characters used, they belong to Ms JK Rowling. I'm British I use British spellings not American.

A Fenrir Greyback/Remus Lupin fic, this is still my first fiction using this pairing. I aimed it to be SHORT and a ONE OFF. The song used as the title also helped inspire me called _"Guilt on Skin" by Charon._

_edited Thank you Mistress of Tales for pointing out the faults in 2005_

WARNING Cannibalism and Suggested Homesexuality and Rape.

By WerewolfGirl

* * *

**Guilt on Skin.**

It was the small hours of the morning, the night's sky was mired by shifting patches of dark clouds blocking out areas of stars and moonlight high above my head as I stepped conservatively through the brambles and littered undergrowth so not to draw attention in this silent place.

The church yard was scattered with worn and crumbling tomb stones of souls long since gone, no one was buried here Muggles had picked another plot for such things. But he was here in these hallowed grounds; half shadowed by the elm trees and the stone church, just visible by the pale moonlight bursts of moonlight and distant street lamps. There was a tiny limp body within his foul hands, the neck snapped and now inhumanely was being ripped and torn with long nails and jagged teeth stained red with blood from that tender flesh. The body of the girl was one of his own creations, a little monster who barley had seen her second moon, now his meal.

There were strong rumours that Greyback no longer waited for the full moon and the change for a chance to taste human flesh, he'd sneak off in the night time hours but he came back with the tell tale smells on his person. It had become a disgusting addiction even amongst his own. In the past those who caught the taste where dealt with as they caused too much trouble for the community but Greyback he was much to powerful, to much a leader and convincing with speeches any of those disgusted must turn a blind eye to his habits.

Human flesh and blood was nice but tainted blood tasted so much sweeter when it's a bastard child of Greyback.

The graveyard reeks of oxygenated spilt blood, my stomach begins to turn in nausea by the heavy copper scent in the air and undertones of something that should only be contained with a body. Swiftly he looks up from his prey and smiles with dripping bloody lips, arising to his feet, he walks forwards, something gave me away. Either he picked me up on the breeze by his attuned nostrils or I'd inadvertently coughed from the assault of smells, there was little point in me pretending any longer to creep about and stood upright as he approached.

The little body he carried was dumped heavily on top of a tombstone stump he'd passed, a thud and cruel crack as the spine breaks; he does not care any more about it. Wiping his mouth with a tattered shirt sleeve he approaches nearer. His eyes are bright and shining no doubt drunk on the euphoria of the blood and the lust of killing as well as the intoxicant alcohol he every now and again stoops to steal.

A blood smeared hand was held out I dare move away from the leader it was too disrespectful and would break all my efforts so far to join the pack, though I know he can see my distaste as my eyes keep wondering back to the mutilated little girl's body.

I had not known her, no name to remember and age could only be a guess of six or seven. Snatched from her parents who where probably still frantically searching for their missing child, bitten to become part of the werewolf race. Looked to delicious to with peaches and cream complexion to be left alone, and now the child was a messy lump of flesh lying on top of a tomb like it was a butcher's block.

"Ah my children are few and far between she was not suitable to join us. She was not like you Remus, my outsider pup".

I looked back at him as his gruff and growled voice spoke, he was very close to me now. The poor girl, nearly two months she had must not shown any potential or there where signs the bite had made her weak physically or mentally.

His gore covered hand he'd held out had taken a hold on my jaw his thumb pressing against my labret and lower lip; his head was draw up beside mine, a brush of his side burn against my cheek. His breath was foul smelling of whiskey and blood playing over the side of my face and neck before there was a sharp a nip on my earlobe with his teeth.

"Such a sweet boy, the guilt on your skin makes you more so tempting."

He had leaned away from me; thumb still pressed against my lower lip, studying my face as I suppressed the urge to make a noise from the nip he'd given. My ear lobe throbbed like it had it's own heartbeat and tingled as sensitive nerves complained, would bet myself it had just been pierced. But I had to keep my face blank, this was little test of his make sure I was subservient.

The guilt he referred to was me having tired so long to fit in with Wizards and not our kind, tried being civilized like a lap dog to those who would lock us up forever he had once noted.

The hand at my mouth moved downwards, slyly beginning to opened the top buttons of my shirt, his long nails scratched the exposed skin deeply on purpose. Another test do not try to flinch or back away, though I could feel heat and sting of raked skin.

I tried not the clench my eyes or even look down, my vision fell onto the distance of the graveyard around us trying to lock on an object that was not the forgotten body. I had foolish followed him tonight, I had been curious to the rumours of his unusual appetites but with the full moon drawing nearer I thought it was a scooting mission for his next targets to bite on the sly I could inform the Order to prevent lives being changed forever.

I had been in the werewolf underground, hidden hovels and lairs over various parts of Britain filled with werewolves who'd been snatched at a young age, some few even born but mainly those who could not fit in with Muggle or Wizard worlds. Living as outcasts with their own hierarchy and rules, better than an institution as you had freedom and those who understood our hidden natures. It was a hard slog trying to get some to listen to me that Dumbledore could help them and it would have been better for many had there been some way of preventing them ever to have been bitten.

The pain flashed again at my collarbone, I had been caught off guard by my thoughts. Greyback had lowered his head and sucked at the wound; there was a pull on my skin and burning sensation, with those dirty fingernails he had drawn blood and could not resist a taste in his inebriated state.

I could not help but utter a murmur of noise, a protest to the pain and the tangy smell of his unwashed hair that was so near my nose. But the sensitivity of the skin of my collarbone so rarely touched by another being caused a ripple of pleasurable sensation running along the nerve messages of my body, the my voice-box squeaked a sigh I didn't really mean for him to hear.

The part of my guilt for having carried on being a werewolf for so long was what Greyback really loved the best and desired the taste of; my soul was seasoned with having studied magic known real meals and comforts of being loved and racked with sadness knowing my transformations where troublesome. The occasional flirting thought of suicide or running away to stop the burdens for others but never having given in, liven on with the inner beast and a world Greyback turned his back on long ago.

Licking like an animal he lapped up my oozing tainted blood, his tongue slowly climbing up my neck in a sensual manner claiming the salt of my skin a hand enclosing tightly upon my shoulder. The movements tingled me with shameful delight over my body, a stirring deep down that flared up at any hinted intimacy it had been long absent from despite who it was offered by. This was a moment I began to feel my body would betray my mind, this creature was evil for the larger part repulsed me. Yes this was a very bad idea to have spied on him tonight.

A shuffle backwards trying to reject this attention without words was halted by the grip on my shoulder tightening. A turn of his shaggy head so his eyes locked onto mine, holding onto the nature's way the weakest would look away first. He knows I have no love for him, only trying to get into his pack but for now I am a target for his intoxicated desires.

"This guilt you wear makes me hunger for…. Your eyes so sad and pale, like winter moons reflected in water".

Greyback pausing for a moment to take in a breath, his eyes half covered by lazy lids and his body looks like it begins to relax. A spilt second makes me suddenly think I had never noticed how poetic he could be, an instinct sense of his guard being down starts up again with me taking a backward step.

His dark eyes flash wide open, looking me intensely with a wicked smile upon his lips the sight of his jagged teeth just visible. He was just toying with his prey, what a clever beast he was.

"…you sweet taste… I'm drunk on the kill of her, but you followed me here … How I lust too much on such pleasures."

So quickly he was upon me, the hand on my shoulder forced it backwards and the other grasped at my waist, the nails biting through the fabric of my clothes into my flesh dragging my hips forward. My balance spun and body trapped on his arms and intimidating strength, a startled cry had added fuel.

The realisation came to late, it was not just the taste of blood and flesh that was his addiction it was the feeling of power having killed to gain it. Within some people the feelings of power activated other feelings, how many reports where there of men beating up a stranger and then going home to a heavy sex romp with the missus. I should not of followed tonight, why did I give into my curiosity, why did I carry on when I should of high tailed it out of sacred grounds when he spotted me and not interrupted his meal.

My feet slipped clumsily on the grass, one getting entangled in a bramble vine as I tried to push away my body from his own, fear gripping at my responses to push away though knowing I had let myself get trapped little grunts of air at exerting some strength against a body mass built like a wall. What did I do with my wand?

His mouth was on mine biting my lower lip so hard his teeth caused a small rush of blood, filling both our mouths of the metallic tang of blood I was perverted from spitting out and feared I would choke on my own life juice as I was tilted further back.

Bloody kisses, the taste of children is sweet but a taste much sweeter if the submissive member of the pack had allow him a little taste of tainted blood and get teased enough buy it.


End file.
